


On the Piste

by Linda18



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-05-28
Updated: 2001-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-11 03:31:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11140215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Linda18/pseuds/Linda18
Summary: Ray puts his fencing skills to the test





	On the Piste

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

On the Piste

## On the Piste

by Linda Hughes

Author's Website: http://1freespace.com/linda1

Disclaimer: Due South and all of its characters belong to Alliance Communications.

Author's Notes: 

Story Notes: Sequel to The Duel

* * *

"Good afternoon," Fraser removed his stetson sliding into the booth sitting opposite his partner. Diefenbaker yipped a greeting as he disappeared under the table to settle himself across Ray's feet. 

"Hiya Fraser," Ray answered. Ducking his head down peering under the table, he ruffled the wolf's furry head. "Hiya Dief," Ray smiled as the wolf whined in pleasure at the caress. 

The waitress wandered over notepad in hand, pencil behind her ear. She beamed at Fraser, ignoring Ray's presence. "Would you like to order now?" she took the pencil from behind her ear licking at the tip, notepad poised, still smiling at Fraser. 

Fraser smiled politely back before glancing down at the menu. "I will have the house salad with grilled chicken. And a cup of tea. No milk or sugar," he handed the menu back to the waitress. "Thank you kindly." 

She beamed at Fraser again before turning to Ray. "And you?" she snapped tapping her pencil on the notepad. 

Ray sighed. "Double cheese burger, fries and a green salad on the side." Before the waitress could ask. "And I'll have a large coke," he finished. 

She scribbled on the pad. Turning back to Fraser, she grinned seductively fiddling distractedly with loose strands of her dyed blonde hair "It won't be long. Just shout if there is anything else I can do for you," she purred. 

"We will," Fraser replied politely oblivious to the innuendo. "Thank you kindly." A flash of disappointment crossed her face, but she smiled again before scurrying away to place their order. Fraser turned his attention to Ray who was grinning at him. "Salad?" Fraser raised his eyebrows to distract Ray from teasing him. 

"Yeah," Ray grinned again. "Thought I'd see what all the fuss was about. And if I don't like it, the cheeseburger and fries will take away the taste." 

"Ahhh, I see," Fraser smiled back. 

The partners sat in companionable silence until their food arrived. The waitress fussed over Fraser until she sensed he wasn't going to react to her flirting. Once alone, Fraser took a sip of his tea. "So," he said smiling at Ray. "Are you ready for the competition on Saturday?" 

"Nah"," Ray's head dropped avoiding Fraser's gaze as he concentrated on squirting tomato sauce over his cheeseburger. "Decided.... ya know not to enter." 

Fraser looked surprised. "But you've been looking forward to the competition. And it's for charity," he said. 

"Yeah I know," Ray murmured staring distractedly at his cheeseburger. "But I aint good enough. So I.... I decided not to enter." 

"Ray," Fraser scolded annoyed at his partner's constant insistence at putting himself down. "You are a good fencer. What you lack in style, you make up a hundred fold in enthusiasm." 

"Thanks Fraser," Ray looked up smiling shyly. "That means a lot cos I know ya mean it." He looked back down to this meal scowling slightly as he picked at the salad with his fork. 

"Then why aren't you competing?" Fraser persisted sensing that there was some other reason why his friend wasn't competing in the charity fencing match that was being held at the weekend. "I thought that you were looking forward to the competition." 

"I was,"Ray mumbled. "But I .... I sorta changed my mind. OK?" His pale eyes glinted, challenging Fraser to continue. 

"Understood," Fraser decided to drop the subject for the moment. His thoughts turned to the competition as he sipped at his tea. 

The British Embassy in Chicago had suggested the event, and had invited a wide variety of organisations to attend and compete against one another in teams with the cash prize going to a charity chosen by the winning team. The winners themselves would be presented with a trophy and some fencing equipment, generously donated by a leading Chicago sports equipment chain store. 

Eight organisations had taken up the challenge, and included teams from the British Embassy, the Chicago PD, the Swiss and French Consulates, two large department stores, Brookfield Zoo, and of course the Canadian Consulate. 

They had both been looking forward to the competition, and Fraser was puzzled as to why his friend suddenly didn't want to compete. Diefenbaker whined bringing Fraser out of his reverie. Picking up his fork, he stabbed at the chicken. 

"Ya not fencing now," Ray teased leaning forwards. "It's dead, I think." 

"I sincerely hope so," Fraser smiled stabbing at a second piece of chicken. "For the chicken's sake." 

"Freak," Ray laughed lightly before taking a bite out of his cheeseburger. Fraser didn't fail to notice that half the burger seemed to have disappeared and he knew Ray hadn't eaten it. Lost in his thoughts, he had obviously missed Ray feeding half his burger to Diefenbaker under the table. Fraser cursed himself silently - he was either slipping or Ray and Diefenbaker were getting better at their subterfuges. 

Ray looked up at his friend. "Fraser. I could ... could still come and support ya," he looked hopeful. "If ya want me too, that is. I could keep an eye on Dief. Make sure he stays outta trouble." 

"And who would keep you out of trouble?" Fraser smirked raising his eyebrows questioningly. Diefenbaker barked from under the table. "I see," Fraser nodded. "You would both look after each other and make sure the other didn't get into any trouble." Diefenbaker barked again and Ray nodded, his expression still hopeful. 

"So," Ray asked. "We gotta a deal?" 

"No Ray," Fraser shook his head placing his fork firmly down on his plate. 

"Oh," Ray couldn't disguise his disappointment. He dropped his head and poked at his salad again. 

"Ray," Fraser tapped Ray's hand to get his attention. "The deal is that you tell me the real reason why you don't want to compete on Saturday. And then I will consider your kind offer to keep an eye on Diefenbaker." 

"Told ya,"Ray slumped down in his chair. "I aint good enough." 

"Ray," Fraser scolded raising his voice slightly. "I know it's not because you think that you aren't good enough." 

"Oh," Ray looked up surprised. "How come?" he slouched further down his chair turning his attention back to his salad and his half eaten burger. 

"Instinct," Fraser replied grinning. 

"Instinct huh?" a small smile played on Ray's lips as he nodded his head slowly. "So where did ya find this..... this instinct of yers?" 

"I must be spending too much time with you Ray," Fraser replied straight faced. He leaned forward, an earnest expression on his face. "Ray. Please tell me what's wrong? Why won't you compete?" Fraser thought he saw a thousand emotions crossing Ray's expressive face as his friend stared at him considering. He returned the stare smiling slightly. 

"OK. OK," Ray waved his hands in the air. "I give up. Yer gonna drive me nuts until I tell. So I might as well give up before you get out one of those Inuit torture stories." Fraser couldn't help smiling, but sat silent patiently waiting for Ray to continue. Ray sighed, knowing that Fraser wasn't going to give up. "Well. I went along to CPD gym to sign up. The team was full. End of story," he lowered his eyes in an attempt to avoid Fraser's gaze. 

"I see," Fraser replied pursing his lips. He cocked his head to one side studying his friend intently sensing there was more to the story that Ray was letting on. 

Ray began to fidget under the stare, feeling guilty for lying to Fraser. "Oh hell,"Ray looked up at his friend. "That aint it. Look I went there. I was in my navy sweats and Bulls t-shirt. I had my tatty old bag with me, and the jacket, mask and glove you lent me. The only new thing I had was the epee ya bought me for my birthday. And they all stood there in the proper.... proper gear looking like an advert for soap powder. And then there was me. I looked.... looked stupid," Ray bit at his bottom lip. "The team woulda been full even if I'd been the first one there. They didn't even give me a go. I just kinda.... kinda didn't fit with their squeaky clean image." 

"Oh Ray," Fraser muttered, not knowing what else to say. "I am so sorry." 

"Look Fraser," Ray waved his hand in the air interrupting Fraser. "It's OK. I'm cool. It's not yer fault." 

"But it's so unfair and unjust," Fraser insisted. "This is meant to be a friendly competition for charity. I hope that you complained to Lieutenant Welsh, who I am sure would be outraged that you haven't been given a chance to be part of the CPD team." 

"Nah, no point really," Ray replied miserably. "And it don't really help that Stell's new boyfriend is the CPD team captain." He shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't really stand a chance. And the kicker is.... is that I really wanted to have a go. Ya know... put all the things ya taught me into practice." 

"I see," Fraser replied. Mind made, he leaned forward slightly. "And you shall have a chance to put your newly acquired skills into practice." 

"I will," Ray interrupted. "How do ya work that one out? I know," he put his hand up. "No. Don't tell me. You've taken up doing magic tricks in yer spare time." 

"No Ray," Fraser replied evenly. "But will get your chance to fence. As a member of the Canadian Consulate team," he replied sitting back and folding his arms with a smug look on his face. 

"Oh yeah," Ray snorted. "I can just see the Ice Queen agreeing to that. She hates me Fraser." He smiled warmly at Fraser. "But hey thanks for the offer. I really appreciate it." 

"Ray. We would be honoured to have you as a member of our Consulate team," Fraser insisted. "There is nothing in the rules to say you can't fence with us. And Inspector Thatcher is always lecturing us about Canadian-American relationships. This is her chance to put her ideals where her mouth is." 

Ray's mouth dropped open. "Yer serious aint ya? Yer not joking?" 

"Quite serious. I think you know me better than to think that I would be so cruel as to offer something like this as a joke," Fraser replied firmly. "So. Do you accept my offer?" 

"I don't know what to say," Ray said. 

"Yes is a good a word as any," Fraser interrupted smiling. "So. Say yes." 

"OK," Ray smiled back. "Yes. I accept yer very kind and generous offer to join the Consulate team." 

"Good. That's settled then," Fraser got to his feet heading towards the cash desk. 

"Now I'm part of yer team," Ray said as they left the coffee shop. "Do I have to be polite?" 

"No," Fraser said deadpan. "Not if it will hurt." 

"Oh hardy ha ha," Ray teased as he bounced towards the parking lot, Diefenbaker excitedly jumping around his legs caught up in Ray's good humour. "Funny guy." 

Fraser followed Diefenbaker and Ray towards the GTO. Fraser smiled to himself pleased that he had made his partner happy. All he had to do now was tell Inspector Thatcher. 

* * *

"You did what?" Inspector Thatcher yelled and Fraser flinched slightly standing even straighter. 

"I asked Detective Vecchio to join our fencing team for the charity competition on Saturday," Fraser repeated tugging at his collar nervously. 

"That's what I thought you said," the Inspector glared at Fraser before turning and marching up and down her office. "What an earth possessed you to invite..." she waved her hand at Fraser lost for a description of Ray. "A scruffy loud mouthed Chicago detective to join the Consulate's fencing team?" 

"Well," Fraser cricked his neck as he cleared his throat. "As you were indisposed due to your unfortunate shoulder injury I thought that inviting Detective Vecchio to join our team would further promote Canadian-American relationships," he stared directly at the Inspector. "Thus illustrating how our two great nations both liaise, work and socialise together." The Inspector continued to stare at him, and Fraser hoped desperately that she couldn't hear the thudding of his heart, or see that he had his fingers crossed behind his back. 

Inspector Thatcher narrowed her eyes at him trying to catch him in a lie. Fraser continued to stare straight ahead, his gaze never wavering. "Is he any good?" she finally snapped. 

Fraser relaxed his stance slightly. "Actually," he smiled. "Detective Vecchio shows great promise as a fencer. What he lacks in skill, he makes up for in his speed of attack. I taught him myself, and he certainly is an enthusiastic fencer." 

"I see," Thatcher mused turning to stare out of the window. "He'd better not let us down. The Consulate has a reputation to maintain. And I will not have...," she paused lost for words again. "Have a unruly detective making us look foolish," she barked turning back to glare at Fraser. 

"I can assure you that Ray will not make the Consulate look foolish," Fraser said calmly. "He just wants a chance to fence. An opportunity his own organisation for whatever reason has denied him." 

"I see," the Inspector regarded Fraser for a moment. "Alright, I agree to Detective Vecchio competing with the Consulate team but," she pointed a finger at him. "He's your responsibility. And if he lets the Consulate down in any way, on your head be it." 

"Understood," Fraser replied. "And thank you kindly." 

"Dismissed," Inspector Thatcher said curtly sitting at her desk drawing a folder forwards ignoring Fraser as he left the office. 

* * *

Inspector Thatcher peered out of the window. She watched as Ray carefully parked the GTO outside the Consulate, grabbed a battered looking bag from the back seat and locked the vehicle. She stepped back slightly as he looked up towards the building. Ray was wearing navy blue sweats, a Bulls t-shirt, tatty looking trainers and a brown leather jacket. His hair was sticking up wildly as usual, but she noted that he looked nervous and jumpy as he ran up the steps to the Consulate. 

"Oh good God," she murmured to herself. "This was a mistake. Wait until I get my hands on Fraser." The Inspector moved towards her office door. She heard low voices in the hallway and she stepped closer to the slightly open door craning her neck to hear what they were saying. 

"Fraser," Ray whispered. "I don't think this was one of yer better ideas." 

"Nonsense Ray," Fraser replied. "You'll be fine." 

"But," Ray insisted. "I don't.... don't wanna let yer down. Or get ya into trouble with the Ice Queen." 

"You won't let me down. I have faith in you Ray," Fraser replied. "And I don't care if Inspector Thatcher doesn't like it. You are my friend, and you deserve a chance to fence in this competition. For whatever reason, your own organisation denied you that opportunity. And we are honoured to have you in our team," he finished. 

"But," Ray started to say. 

"No buts Ray," Fraser said sharply. "You're part of the team. And as you are so fond of saying. Dot it, file it, stick it in a box marked done." 

"Fraser," Ray laughed lightly. "OK. OK. Ya win as usual." 

"Thank you kindly Ray," Fraser laughed back. 

Inspector Thatcher stepped back slightly surprised at the tone of Ray's voice. He sounded nothing like the brash, loud and confident detective that she knew - the one who baited her and called her unflattering names behind her back. He had sounded almost shy - nervous and unsure of himself and his abilities. This was a side of the scruffy detective that she didn't know, had never expected and it piqued her curiosity. She also remembered that Fraser had mentioned that the detective's own organisation wouldn't let him fence in their team - another fact that made her curious. "One up for the Canadians," she allowed herself a small smile deciding that she would try to be pleasant to the detective. In the interests of CanadianAmerican relationships she persuaded herself as she took a moment to compose herself. The Inspector brushed at her skirt before entering the hallway. 

"Good morning Inspector Thatcher," Fraser snapped to attention as she entered the hallway. 

"Constable," she nodded towards Fraser, a small smile on her face. She turned her attention to Ray taking a quick moment to study him - he still looked scruffy to her, but he also looked uneasy and tense. Diefenbaker sat at his feet protectively. "Detective." 

"Hi. I mean morning Inspector," Ray shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Thanks for ... ya know letting me be part of the Consulate team," he mumbled flushing slightly. "I appreciate it." 

Inspector Thatcher straightened smiling at Ray. "We are happy that you decided to accept our offer of competing on behalf of the Consulate," she said. "Constable Fraser tells me that you are an competent fencer. I am sure you will be an asset to the team." 

Ray couldn't help it, his mouth dropped open in surprise. He looked at Fraser, who looked just as surprised. "I'll do my best not to let ya all down," Ray finally managed to stammer. 

"I know you will Detective," the Inspector replied. "That's all we ask of you. That you do your best. And enjoy yourself." She turned her attentions to Fraser. "Now where is Turnbull and the vehicle we hired to take us to the competition?" 

Fraser shook himself out of his trance, idly wondering whether the real Inspector Thatcher had been abducted and replaced. "He's just loading our equipment into the vehicle in the side street," he answered. 

"Right," Inspector Thatcher pulled at her jacket straightening it slightly. "Let's get going. We have a competition to win," she said as she marched towards the door, a small smile playing on her lips at the surprised look on both of the mens' faces. 

"Right you are sir," Fraser replied as cheerfully as he could before starting after the Inspector catching hold of a still shocked Ray's arm pulling him towards the door. Diefenbaker trotted behind them. 

"So," Ray leaned towards Fraser. "Someone abducted the Ice Queen. Right?" Ray whispered. "Cos that aint her," he stabbed a finger at the Inspector's retreating back. Diefenbaker barked in agreement looking up at Fraser. 

"Ssshh. Both of you," Fraser hissed. "Just be thankful that the Inspector appears to be in a good mood today." 

"Right," Ray whispered. "But I'm with Dief on this one. That aint the Ice Queen." Diefenbaker barked again licking at Ray's hand. "See. Dief agrees with me," Ray persisted. 

Fraser raised his eyes upwards in exasperation - it was going to be a long day. 

* * *

The hall the British Embassy had hired was large and airy with raised seating on two sides. Supporters had already started to arrive and were huddled in groups watching as the four pistes were prepared. Each piste was carefully measured, and an electric box set up ready for the fencers. 

Around the room, the fencing teams were preparing themselves - slipping into their protective jackets, and making last minute adjustments to favourite weapons and body wires, eager to get started. 

The rules of the competition were simple - two teams per piste, drawn at random by the wife of the British Ambassador. Each team member would fence each of the opposing team. The individual scores would then be added up to determine the winning team on each piste. The four winning teams would then go through to the next part of the competition, until there were two teams remaining. These teams would then fence for the cash prize for charity, a small trophy and the donated fencing equipment. 

Ray shifted from foot to foot as he looked around the hall. He was already dressed in his protective white jacket, his glove and helmet tucked under one arm, his epee clasped in the other hand. Although nervous, Ray couldn't help feeling excited and was eager for the competition to start. Ever since Fraser had persuaded him to have a go at fencing one weekend, Ray had waited for an opportunity to put his skills into practice. He enjoyed the sport, and had been bitterly disappointed and angry when the CPD had refused to let him join their team. Fraser, as usual, had come to the rescue and he now found himself competing with the Consulate team, and he was determined to do well, desperate to prove that Fraser's faith in him wasn't misplaced. 

Ray looked down at the epee in his hand. He had been delighted when Fraser had bought him the sword for his birthday - his first, and only, sword. The protective guard was no longer shiny as small dents were clearly visible in the bell-shaped metal shield where his opponent's sword tips had hit it. Battle scars he had told Fraser with a grin, and Fraser had pointed out better in the guard than his fingers and hand. Ray flexed his fingers around the handle. 

Ray's gaze drifted around the hall settling on the CPD team; he watched as they donned their white fencing gear, and then began their stretching exercises. Ray thought that they looked completely professional, and knew he was probably looking at the winners of the competition. Ray cast a look at his tatty trainers, his navy blue sweats and his slightly too large fencing jacket. "Ya suck," he sighed to himself. 

Ray noticed Stella standing close to the team captain - Lieutenant Mike Anderson - and he scowled slightly as she bent forward kissing the lieutenant lightly on the cheek. The lieutenant returned the kiss pulling Stella closer to him into a possessive embrace. 

Ray tried to ignore them turning his attention to the other teams - the French, Swiss and British teams were dressed in fencing whites, but the two department store teams and the zoo team were in a mixture of fencing whites and different coloured sweats. Ray smiled to himself, feeling slightly more comfortable with his own clothes. 

"Ready Ray," Fraser startled him out of his reverie. 

"Yeah," Ray answered with a small smile. He looked down at Fraser noticing that he was wearing black sweats with a yellow stripe down the legs instead of his white fencing trousers. "Where's ya fencing stuff?" he asked curious. 

"We," Fraser indicated the other members of the Consulate team. "Decided to wear black sweats as our fencing whites are at the laundry," he smiled. 

"At the laundry huh?" Ray grinned slightly. He couldn't believe that the rest of the team had worn sweats so he didn't feel out of place. It made him even more determined to fence well, and he was damned if he was going to let the team down. 

"Yes," Fraser nodded smiling. "Now I understand Inspector Thatcher would like to say a few words to us before the competition starts," he beckoned Ray to follow him towards the Inspector and the rest of the team. Ray took a last look around the hall, excitement rising in his stomach, before following Fraser towards Inspector Thatcher. 

* * *

Despite not being able to fence herself, Inspector Thatcher was enjoying herself. Seated in the front row of seats, she had watched proudly as the Consulate team battled their way through to the second round, easily beating one of the department store teams. They were now in the middle of fencing the Brookfield Zoo team, whilst on the other piste the British Embassy team were fencing the CPD team. 

Thatcher scanned the rows of seats noting that the defeated fencing teams had now joined the other supporters in the stands of seats, and were busily analysing the fencing styles of the remaining teams, laying bets on who would be the eventual winners of the competition. 

Inspector Thatcher turned her attention back to the fencers - Ray was fencing a large stocky zoo team member. She watched as he advanced and retreated along the piste. She smiled - he certainly had an unusual fencing style, but it seemed to work for him - unpredictable and graceful at the same time, he changed tactics on his opponents managing to catch them off guard on a number of occasions scoring successful hits to any part of their body he could reach. His fencing style seemed to match what little she knew of his personality - energetic, erratic and untidy - but it seemed to confuse his opponents. The speed of his movements and his obvious enthusiasm sometimes let him down, but the Inspector was impressed despite her initial doubts of letting him join the team. 

"Inspector," Fraser said sitting down next to her. "I hope that you are enjoying yourself despite not being able to fence yourself." 

"Yes I am. Thank you Constable," she turned smiling slightly. Thatcher nodded towards Ray. "You were right. He's not a bad fencer," she conceded. "Although his fencing style is somewhat curious, and his enthusiasm sometimes gets the better of him." 

"Ray certainly seems to enjoy fencing," Fraser chuckled to himself. "And I have to admit being caught out on many an occasions by his unpredictable," Fraser paused trying to think of appropriate words. "And unique style." 

Inspector Thatcher raised her eyes in surprise. Fraser was an excellent fencer, and had competed and won many times for the RCMP. His fencing style was like Fraser himself - neat, efficient and frighteningly effective in its power and mastery. "I must admit to having a hard time believing that an untidy fencer like Detective Vecchio could score a hit off you," she answered. 

"Oh yes. And on many occasions," Fraser leaned closer conspiratorially. "But I think it helps that he thinks he's Errol Flynn." 

"Well," Inspector Thatcher laughed. "That would certainly explain many things." 

They sat silent watching as Ray scored the final hit off his opponent, winning ten hits to eight. Ray and his opponent removed their helmets shaking hands, as the next two fencers prepared themselves. 

"If Constable Bates wins this bout," the Inspector turned to Fraser. "I think the team is through to the final." Fraser nodded pleased. "And I have been keeping an eye on the other contest, and I think we will be playing the CPD." 

"Oh dear," Fraser mumbled to himself as he watched Ray chatting happily with Turnbull. 

* * *

Fraser watched with concern as Ray paced anxiously up and down. The results had been announced - the CPD team were fencing the Consulate team in the final after a half an hour break to give the fencers time to prepare themselves. The wife of the British Ambassador was, again, drawing the order of who would fence who in the final match. 

Fraser scanned the crowd, noting that a few 27th precinct officers had joined the spectators, including Lieutenant Welsh, Tom Dewey and Jack Huey. He glanced back to Ray - he had stopped pacing and was slumped on a low bench his head bowed. Diefenbaker was sitting in front of his favourite American, his furry head resting lightly on Ray's knees in comfort. Fraser shook his head - moving through a group of fencers, he made his way towards Ray. 

"Ready for the final?" he said as he sat down next to Ray. 

Ray lifted his head glancing sideways at Fraser. "Whaddya think?" he pulled a face at his friend. 

"Ahhh," Fraser murmured. 

"How did I let ya... ya talk me into this?" Ray muttered as he stroked Diefenbaker's head. "I can't do this. I'll let ya down. And then you'll get into trouble with the Ice Queen," he said miserably. "And half the damn squad room," he waved his hand towards the crowd. "Are here to see.... see me make a fool of myself," his head dropped forward in defeat. "I suck." 

"Ray," Fraser scolded. "You do not suck. You'll be fine. You have fenced very well today. You're a good fencer." 

"Ya think?" Ray murmured hopefully. Fraser nodded smiling encouragingly. Ray sighed. "Well yer my friend. Ya would say that. Yer too polite to be..... be mean." 

"Constable Fraser is right. You're a good fencer," Inspector Thatcher interrupted coming up behind the two men. "I have been watching you. Your style is unusual, but it catches your opponents off guard most of the time." Ray's mouth dropped open in surprise at the unexpected compliment. Inspector Thatcher smiled at Ray. "If you just curb your enthusiasm slightly and defend yourself as well as you attack, you can't go wrong." 

"The Inspector is right Ray," Fraser persuaded. 

"Ohh," Ray stammered looking from the Inspector to Fraser. "Thanks. I'll try my best." A small smile played on his lips, and Diefenbaker jumped up Ray licking at his face. 

"It would seem that the wolf agrees," Thatcher laughed. "Now we have that settled, will you gentlemen excuse me. I have to talk to Lieutenant Welsh about a small matter," she patted Ray on the back and started off towards the lieutenant. 

"So," Ray grinned at Fraser, who was staring distractedly at the Inspector as she made her way through the crowd. "Have ya worked out who she is?" 

"Ray," Fraser scolded. "I am sure the Inspector's comments about your fencing skills were genuine." 

"I know Fraser," Ray smiled. "Only teasing ya." 

"Understood," Fraser smiled back. "Oh dear," he muttered as he looked over Ray's shoulder - Detectives Dewey and Huey were advancing on them. 

"Good afternoon," Fraser politely nodded as Ray turned to face the CPD detectives. 

"So Vecchio," Dewey sneered. "What brings you here? You turn Canadian all of a sudden?" Huey groaned and raised his eyes upwards. 

Fraser could feel Ray bristling with anger as the fury radiated through his frame, and he laid a calming hand on Ray's arm. "Actually Detective Dewey," Fraser said politely. "There is nothing in the rules to say that Ray can't fence for the Consulate team." 

"Oooo," Dewey snickered. "Did you hear that Jack? Mountie boy here says that Ray can be Canadian." 

"Tom," Huey said exasperated. "Drop it." 

"Turncoat," Dewey accused nastily despite Huey's warning. "Playing for the other side aint nice." 

Ray's anger got the better of him, and he stepped forward into Dewey's personal space. "I'm no turncoat," he snarled. "I'm fencing with the best team here, and don't ya forget it." He glared at Dewey, his eyes flashing with anger his fists balled at his sides. "And if ya still aint got it. When I kick yer in the head, I'll make sure I stamp it across yer forehead." 

Ohhh, I am so scared," Dewey bated Ray. Huey and Fraser groaned in despair at their partners. 

Ray took another step forward, but Fraser decided to intervene before fists were raised. "Ray. Ray. Ray," he shook his partner. "Ray. Your name has been called. You are wanted on the piste," Fraser pulled Ray away from Dewey pushing him in the direction of his equipment. "Get your sword and gear," he commanded. Ray glared angrily at Dewey as he walked to retrieve his equipment. 

"Traitor," Dewey couldn't help whispering as Ray walked past him. 

Fraser quickly stepped between the two men, pushing at Ray again. Turning to Dewey. "I really wouldn't pick a fight with Ray," he said calmly distracting Dewey's attention away from Ray. 

Dewey narrowed his eyes challengingly. "Oh yeah," he sneered. "Why's that Mountie boy?" 

"Well," Fraser answered, ignoring the insult, as he leaned forward conspiratorially. "He has a sword," he looked Dewey up and down. "And you don't." 

Huey snorted with laugher at the look on his partner's face. "One to the Mountie," he smirked at his partner. "Come on Tom. Let's go get a seat for the final," Huey grinned at Fraser as he dragged Dewey towards the seats. "Good on you Fraser," he smacked Fraser on the back as he passed by. 

* * *

Inspector Thatcher had joined Lieutenant Welsh, and they were seated behind the CPD team bench. They were watching Fraser fence a burly detective from the 19th precinct. Fraser was winning, seven points to two, easily out classing the detective as he moved up and down the piste. The Consulate team cheered noisily as he executed a perfect fleche movement scoring his eighth hit off his opponent as he passed by. 

"I kinda think Vecchio is a bad influence on yer team," Welsh chuckled nodding towards the Consulate team, who were jumping up and down enthusiastically with Diefenbaker bounding around their legs excitedly. Ray was leading the cheering, and appeared to be enjoying himself enormously. 

"So it would seem," Thatcher smiled at Welsh. "But then Ray has entered into the real spirit of the competition. Despite being nervous and unsure of his abilities, he has enjoyed himself. And that really is the most important part of this competition," she glanced sideways at the lieutenant. "Don't you think?" 

"Sure do Inspector," Welsh smiled. "Couldn't have put it better myself." Welsh nodded to Stella Kowalski and Mike Anderson as they joined them in the seats. 

"And win or lose, my team has entered into the real spirit of the competition," she glared at Lieutenant Anderson, who ignored the look. "Unlike other teams." She turned her attention back to the fencing as Fraser lunged forward expertly hitting his opponent square in the chest, scoring the winning hit. Thatcher stood up clapping loudly as Fraser shook hands with his opponent. The Inspector sat back down turning her attention towards Lieutenant Anderson. "Two more bouts to go. And I think we may have got you beat," she grinned smugly folding her arms over her chest. 

"You think?" he said leaning forward. "You got Vecchio to go yet, and he's fencing me in the final bout. I wouldn't start counting your chickens just yet Inspector." 

"He may not be good enough for your team," Inspector Thatcher pulled a face at the lieutenant. "But he's done very well today." 

"Plain old fashioned luck," the lieutenant hissed. 

The Inspector snorted. "You may not have wanted him, for whatever reason," she said as she looked Stella up and down. "But we're glad he is part of our team." 

"What do you mean not good enough for the CPD team?" Stella interrupted tugging at the lieutenant's arm. "Mike. You told me that Ray didn't turn up for a trial. And that when you asked him, Ray said he didn't want to fence for the CPD." 

"Look hon," Mike started to say flushing slightly. 

"Don't you look hon me," Stella said firmly putting her hands on hips glaring at the lieutenant. "Well I'm waiting," she tapped her foot angrily. 

"I would be interested to hear your reason for Vecchio not being on the CPD team," Welsh added. "And I am sure it wouldn't be a personal reason." 

"No sir," Anderson replied blushing again. "He just didn't make the grade." 

"I see," Welsh narrowed his eyes at the younger man. "Well I don't know anything about fencing, but he seems to be doing OK," he turned to Inspector Thatcher. "Wouldn't you agree Inspector?" 

"Absolutely," Thatcher smirked enjoying the discomfort of the younger man as he shifted from foot to foot. 

Anderson turned to Stella. "And I didn't want to tell you in case it upset you. I know you still have a soft spot for him," he pointed towards Ray. 

"Oh really," Stella snarled. "My having a soft spot or not for Ray has nothing to do with you. And I think we both know the reason you didn't want Ray on your precious team," she stabbed a finger at Anderson's chest. "And it totally sucks." 

"Stella," Anderson started to protest. 

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ever come near me again. Don't bother calling again because I will be out to you," she stabbed her finger at his chest again. "And you owe Ray an apology." She nodded at Welsh and Thatcher before turning to leave. "Wish Ray luck from me." 

"Stella," Anderson protested again. 

"I hope he kicks your ass," Stella hissed as she stalked past Anderson towards the exit. 

Welsh and Thatcher watched with amusement as Lieutenant Anderson chased after Stella, his arms in front of him pleading. Welsh looked to Thatcher. "Oh dear. As Constable Fraser would say," he laughed. 

"Quite," Thatcher giggled. 

* * *

Fraser stood next to Ray as they watched Constable Bates fence a female sergeant from the 28th precinct. "Fraser. Why isn't he... ya know winning?" Ray glanced sideways anxiously. 

"Sergeant Taylor is out classing him," Fraser replied frowning. 

"Yer not helping," Ray said looking back towards the fencers. "If Bates don't win, it's all on the last fight." 

"I know Ray," Fraser answered quietly, knowing the reason for Ray's anxiety. 

"Yer still not helping," Ray said. "And that means it's up ..... up to me to beat Anderson," he scowled. "And I've been watching him. No way am I gonna beat him. He's good." 

"Yes he is," Fraser agreed. 

"Fraser," Ray groaned. "I'm gonna let ya and the rest of the team down. And then yer gonna get into trouble with the Ice Queen. And then..." 

"Ray," Fraser turned pulling him back towards the bench. "Listen to me carefully. Yes. Lieutenant Anderson does appear to be a good fencer. But so are you," he waved his hand silencing Ray as he went to protest. "I have also been studying his fencing style. He is a flick hitter, and to do this he has to wait until his opponent steps into range. I also noticed that he rarely uses a lunge. He prefers to goad his opponent to step closer. And then he flick hits them on the top side of their sword arm." 

"So," Ray said confused. 

"So," Fraser said patiently. "You need to adopt a more defensive style. Not your usual flamboyant attacking style. Wait for him to come to you. He will grow tired of waiting for you to step closer and try to goad you. Let him. When he steps within your range, I would strongly suggest that you use your lunge. The one I have seen you use many times, and I have to say is most impressive." 

"Ya think?" Ray beamed. 

"I do," Fraser replied. "Other than that, I would only use moves that you are comfortable with. Don't try anything new." 

Ray nodded listening intently as Fraser gave him a few tips on a defensive fencing style. "If everything I try fails," Ray teased as he pulled on his glove. "Can I kick him in the head?" 

"Ray," Fraser scolded handing him his weapon. "I think they are calling for you now," he patted Ray on the back. "Good luck." 

"Thanks Fraser," Ray replied as he retrieved his helmet heading out towards the piste. The other members of the Consulate team stepped forward patting Ray on the back as he walked through them. Diefenbaker barked and Ray stroked his head with his gloved hand. 

* * *

The two fencers stood opposite each other, helmet under their left arms, swords in their right hands. The President stepped forward nodding ensuring that both fencers tested their weapons. Loud beeps from the electric box signalled that the swords were in working order. Ray and Anderson stepped back saluting each other and the President, as tradition dictated, with their swords as they put their helmets on. 

"Ready," the President called. Both fencers nodded adjusting their grasp of their weapon in readiness. "En garde," the President called as both fencers adopted the classic starting position, knees slightly bent, left arm back as balance, sword arm and sword pointing at their opponent. 

"Fence," the President called stepping back slightly to give the fencers plenty of room. 

Ray stepped forwards slightly, his sword arm straight. He gripped the handle tighter as he steadied his nerves trying to remember everything that Fraser had told and taught him. The lieutenant remained motionless trying to tempt Ray forwards by holding his sword away from his body trying to entice Ray with a target to hit. "Oh no ya don't," Ray grinned to himself as he took a small step backwards. 

Anderson seemed surprised by the move, and took two steps forward. Ray edged forwards slightly, and their swords clashed as Anderson tried to take Ray's blade. Ray managed to avoid the finishing attack by dipping his sword downwards and lunging low. The electric box beeped as his sword connected with Anderson's exposed knee. 

"Halt" the President called. "Point to Vecchio," he announced. 

"Lucky hit," Anderson growled as they returned to their en garde positions. 

The President signalled for them to start; Anderson changed his tactics advancing quickly along the piste, catching Ray off guard. He struck Ray harder than was necessary on his sword arm, the electric box recording his successful hit. 

Ray cursed rubbing at his arm as he moved back to his starting position. He could feel his arm throbbing in pain, and he knew that he would have a large bruise in the morning. "OK. So ya wanna play?" Ray whispered to himself. "Well it's no more Mr. Nice Guy." He prepared himself for the President to call en garde. 

* * *

Fraser was sitting with Thatcher and Welsh, and had jumped to his feet furious. He could see that the hit was intentionally vicious in its force, and knew from past experience that Ray's arm would be smarting where the sword tip had hit him. "Hit him back," Fraser hissed uncharacteristically. 

"Constable," Welsh chuckled amused at the usually calm Mountie's loss of control and restraint. "Sit down. And try to keep calm." 

"But that was totally unnecessary," Fraser protested. Lieutenant Welsh raised his eye brows in surprise, and Fraser flushed bright red in embarrassment as he sat down. "The lieutenant didn't have to hit that hard," Fraser insisted. 

"Vecchio's a tough little shit," Welsh re-assured. "He'll be fine. And as you well know, he don't take anything lying down." 

Fraser turned his attention back to the fencing. Ray and Anderson continued to advance and retire along the piste, their swords clashing as each man endeavoured to parry a hit from their opponent. The two men seemed evenly matched, and they scored successive hits off each other, the electric box lighting and beeping as their swords connected with their targets. 

Ray stumbled slightly misjudging a beat attack, and Anderson scored another hard hit on Ray's sword arm. "Don't get angry. Let him come to you," Fraser mumbled as he watched Ray adopt his usual attacking style advancing forward quickly. Ray managed to successfully parry a barrage of attacks, deflecting Anderson's sword with a mixture of counter attacks and circular parries. His patience was rewarded as Anderson made a silly mistake - Ray lunged forward hitting the other man square in the chest. 

"Yes," Fraser said forcefully. "Eight hits each," Fraser turned to Thatcher and Welsh. "If Ray can keep calm and keep doing what he's doing, I think he may just beat the Lieutenant," he announced excitedly. 

"You could be right Constable," Thatcher nodded caught up in Fraser excitement. Welsh just sat back chuckling to himself at the two Mounties' enthusiasm. 

"Come on Ray," Fraser whispered. "Come on." 

The two fencers advanced on each other, sword arms outstretched. The lieutenant slashed his sword slightly in an exaggerated movement; Ray stumbled backwards managing to parry the blade, lashing out wildly with his sword. The hardened steel of the two blades clashed together as the two men fought for the upper hand. Ray stabbed wildly at Anderson, as the lieutenant moved forwards arm still extended. Both men hit one another simultaneously. The electric box lit both lights - double hit - a point to each fencer. 

Fraser was having difficulty trying to contain himself. "Nine. Nine. Last hit," he murmured clenching his fists tightly. He glanced sideways smiling to himself - both Thatcher and Welsh were sitting forward on their seats totally absorbed with the fencing in front of them. 

"Come on Vecchio," Welsh shouted. "Finish him off." All eyes seemed to turn towards the burly lieutenant, but he just shrugged sitting back in his chair smiling. 

"Lieutenant Welsh," Thatcher cried horrified. "That's not very sportsmanlike." 

"To hell with sportsmanlike," Welsh said. "I want to see Vecchio beat the shit outta the smarmy bastard. Don't you?" 

Thatcher tried to keep a straight face, but failed miserably. "Yes. I do." 

"Thought so," Welsh grinned turning back to the fencing. 

The two men stood facing each other swords extended blades slightly touching as they weighed up their options and one another. The lieutenant took several steps backwards trying to goad Ray to attack him. Ray ignored the invitation standing his ground. Anderson seemed to shrug, impatient to win the last hit, and moved forwards. 

"Keep calm Ray," Fraser mouthed. "Keep calm." 

Anderson moved quickly in an effort to catch Ray off guard trying to flick hit him on the arm. Ray was ready for him - moving swiftly and gracefully he lunged low, his sword arm fully extended. With a small flick of his wrist, he angled his sword upwards; thrusting forwards, he hit Anderson dead centre of the chest. The light came on as the electric box beeped loudly, seeming to echo around the silent hall. 

The Consulate team and their supporters leapt into the air with a shout of triumph rushing forwards onto the piste. Diefenbaker was barking excitedly running round in circles. Ray disappeared into a sea of people as the crowd encircled him still cheering loudly. 

Fraser was on his feet clapping enthusiastically. He glanced sideways - Thatcher and Welsh had joined him in his applause. He turned back scanning the crowded piste looking for Ray. A flash of white caught his eye as Constables Turnbull and Bates lifted Ray up onto their shoulders. Fraser could see that despite his obvious protests Ray - his face bright red and his usually spiky blonde hair flattened to his head dampened with sweat - was beaming happily 

As Turnbull and Bates bounced Ray on their shoulders, he caught Fraser's eye. He grinned widely lifting his right arm high into the air saluting Fraser with his sword. Ray continued to hold the weapon high in the air victorious as Turnbull and Bates carried him around the hall, followed by the Consulate team, their supporters and Diefenbaker, who was bringing up the rear. 

* * *

Ray bounced up and down on his heels, the adrenaline of his victory still charging his body with energy and electricity. Although, he longed to stand under a hot shower for the rest of the day, Ray felt good. He was surrounded by members of the Consulate team, who couldn't seem to stop smiling at him and smacking him on the back. Fraser, Inspector Thatcher and Welsh were standing to one side talking. 

Ray couldn't believe that he hadn't let the team or Fraser down, and he grinned to himself remembering the scowl on Lieutenant Anderson's face as they had shaken hands at the end of the bout. 

A small awards ceremony had followed the competition. Each of the fencers had been presented with a commemorative medal. The Consulate team were now the proud possessors of the small silver trophy, and Ray noticed that Inspector Thatcher was showing it to Lieutenant Welsh. They had decided to donate their prize money to the Childrens' Hospital. Lost in his thoughts, Ray idly touched his medal. 

"So," Fraser startled him out of his reverie. "Did you enjoy yourself Ray?" 

"Oh yeah," Ray grinned. "And I didn't let ya down." 

"No you didn't Ray," Fraser smiled back. "And you won the day." 

"Fraser," Ray blushed bright red at the compliment. "Thanks for..," he dropped his head shyly. "Ya know letting a loud Chicago flatfoot fence with ya.... neat and polite team." 

"It was our pleasure," Fraser chuckled leaning forwards. "And our honour to have you on the team." Diefenbaker barked in agreement licking at Ray's hand. Ray chuckled as he leaned down and ruffled the wolf's furry head. 

"It certainly was," Inspector Thatcher interrupted. "Well done Detective Vecchio," she thrust the trophy into his hands. Ray looked up confused. "You get to look after the trophy for the first two months," she explained smiling at his expression. "And you are welcome to come to the Consulate and use the fencing equipment we won any time you like." 

Ray's mouth dropped open in surprise. "Thanks Inspector," he finally stuttered. 

"You are quite welcome," the Inspector replied. "I'll just go and find Turnbull. Make sure he brings the vehicle around to the front of the building," she turned to leave. "Don't want him getting himself lost." 

"So," Ray picked up his fencing bag. "Did ya find where the real Ice Queen went today? And who that nice person was?" 

"Ray," Fraser scolded again. "I am sure Inspector Thatcher is sincere in her offer for you to use the equipment we won. And I happen to think it was a nice gesture to let you look after our trophy first." 

"I know," Ray smiled. "Just teasing ya. But I don't like it when she's nice to me. Makes me feel all weird." 

"What?" Fraser teased back. "I presume you mean weirder than you are normally," he grinned retrieving his own fencing bag from the bench. 

"Oh hardy ha," Ray smiled back as he started towards the door, Diefenbaker at his heels. "Funny guy," he looked back at Fraser as he shrugged his bag onto his shoulder. 

"Oh dear," Fraser murmured as he saw the CPD fencing team approach them led by Lieutenant Anderson. 

"So Vecchio," Anderson said. 

"Lieutenant," Ray nodded. Diefenbaker growled softly in the back of his throat, and Ray dropped his hand patting the wolf on his head soothingly. 

Ray couldn't help smiling as the lieutenant drew back slightly, nervously eyeing the wolf. "Can we expect you at our next team practice?" he asked. "We meet on a Tuesday evening. I think we can find a place for you." 

Ray looked from Anderson to Fraser considering for a moment. "Nah," he replied as he fingered the trophy he still carried in his hand. 

"What?" Anderson said surprised. 

"Nah," Ray repeated. "Got myself a place on a good team. If they'll have me." 

"Suit yourself," the lieutenant pulled a face as he shrugged his shoulders. "Don't say I didn't ask you," he snapped as he motioned his other team members to follow him. "I won't be asking again." 

"Suits me fine," Ray retorted as Anderson turned his back. He watched as the CPD team left the building, his fingers still stroking at the trophy. 

"Ray," Fraser put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "You don't have to feel obliged to fence for the Consulate team if you would prefer to fence with the CPD team," he offered softly. 

"Fraser," Ray grinned. "I wanna fence with ya guys," he dropped his head shyly. "If ya still want me too." 

"Of course, we would be honoured to have you on our team," Fraser beamed as he opened the door. 

"Fraser," Ray said. 

"Yes Ray," Fraser replied. 

"Do ya wanna come back to my place and get pizza?" Ray asked. 

"Yes I would very much like to come back to your apartment for pizza," Fraser replied. "Thank you kindly." Diefenbaker barked enthusiastically looking up at Fraser. 

"I didn't hear your name mentioned," Fraser scowled at the wolf. Diefenbaker whined in protest. Turning his back on Fraser he nudged at Ray's leg looking up at his friend, his expression hopeful. 

"You too Dief," Ray stroked the wolf who yipped in delight. Ray looked back to Fraser, who was raising his eyebrows in exasperation at his two partners. "I got this great video we can watch while we're eating," Ray grinned mischievously. 

"What's the video about?" Fraser asked curious. 

"Well it's about this charity fencing competition," Ray grinned again. "Turnbull filmed us today with his new video camera. And he's gonna let us borrow the tape because he said the last match was kinda good. And we can replay it as many times as we like." Ray laughed at the expression on Fraser's face. Diefenbaker barked delighted with the idea of watching his favourite American fencing. "Or we could replay my baseball triumph again,"Ray teased. 

"Oh dear," Fraser groaned. 

**THE END**

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